


Loss Of Mind

by ThatYellowFinch



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Altered Mental States, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Gen, Isolation, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Mental Institutions, York lives au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-26
Updated: 2015-02-02
Packaged: 2018-02-22 16:44:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2514743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatYellowFinch/pseuds/ThatYellowFinch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He's survived Sidewinder, life on the run, two shots to the chest, and now the loss of his close friend and AI. York didn't think he could hit any lower than this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

            The first thing York remembered was pain. Sharp and vivid, it bloomed from a singular point on his chest and spread, sending electric pulses through his body. The next thing was a voice. It was familiar and, because of this, comforting even though there was nothing in the tone of the voice to imply that it was someone who would actually care. The voice was rambling off some numbers and words that went over York’s groggy head. It took him a long moment to recognize the voice and an even longer moment to realize what he was saying.

            "...-having difficulty, I can walk you through the implantation procedure." It was Delta, but he was talking to someone. York would have moved to see who it was but his body started to feel numb, a relief from his previous pain. He found that he was actually content just laying there and listening to them.

            "I don't do that." The voice sounded harsh, unfriendly. And yet York recognized him, though he couldn't place a name or face with the voice.

            "Are you Agent Washington?"

            _Wash?_

            "That's me."

            York wanted to jolt up right then and there, greet Wash as an old friend should. But his body refused to listen to him; he couldn't even form a sound to alert him to his presence.

            "Then I understand." Delta continues. "You had, difficulties with your assigned A.I. unit."

            “Difficulties?" He hears Wash scoff. "Yeah, I suppose that's a word."

            "In that case, I must insist that you terminate my program."

            _What!? What's Delta talking about?_

            Delta continued, "Destruction ensures that an A.I. will not fall in to-"

            "Look, Delta, just relax. I don't think you're in any danger of getting hijacked by one of the four dead guys here with us."

            _Dead guys?_

            "Three."

            "What?"

            "My sensors indicate only three inert human forms. Yourself and one other remain active." Delta explained.

            York couldn't focus after that, loud rifle noises and shouts blurring his senses and keeping his muddled and numbing mind from realizing what was happening. And then there was an explosion, by the sounds of it, and quiet settled over the old fort.

            York fell in and out of sleep as his numbness continued. He didn't know how long he slept, he remembered waking up a few times and it being night but when he finally did wake up for real it was daylight.

            "Delta," He groaned. "Time."

            No response.

            "Yo, D."

            Silence.

            York laid there for a long while, wondering why his head sounded so...quiet...empty. It felt wrong. "Delta," He called out one more time. Still, no response. Groaning in pain, York struggled to sit and pull himself up using a nearby wall. Looking around he tried to remember what happened. He remembered something about Tex, he was helping her with something and then-

            York hissed in pain as the wounds on his chest flared. That's right, he had gotten shot. Delta had used the healing unit. He remembered him telling Tex that he wouldn't survive, and yet here he was; but where was Delta? York tried to focus but his mind seemed muddled and scrambled. He remembered something, about Wash. But he had thought that was just a dream. But Wash was still with Freelancer, working in the recovery unit if he had heard right over the radios all those months ago. If that was true, then he’d be the one with Delta. York considered for a long moment to go after them, to try and track Wash to get his AI back. It would be difficult, especially without Delta’s help. He didn’t even know where to start, Wash could be literally anywhere.

            With a sigh York scrambled to his feet and started to leave, he was tired and hungry and hurt. He would figure out what to do when he was in a better mindset to handle it.


	2. Chapter 2

            Months, it had been months and York still hadn’t found his little green buddy. He had been listening to the radios, heard the news about North and heard Wash take the order to kill South. He couldn’t believe his friend would be able to do that, but that didn’t matter to York at the moment. He was just trying to stay alive at this point. He was used to stealing to eat, trespassing for shelter, and even lying for safety by now. It wasn’t like he hadn’t been doing this for years. He never stole more than he needed, and sometimes stole less even because his damn conscious wouldn’t let him steal more. He didn’t like this life but it was all he had.

            Even his plans for the night, as he walked through the city with a pocket full of pick pocketed money, relied on his skills to trespass easily. There was a mostly abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of town that he had heard from a very nice homeless man he had shared his lunch with earlier, that it was an easy shelter to get into and no one goes there so there’s very little risk of being caught. He said the roof leaked and the floor was covered with glass and dust but so long as it was shelter York didn’t exactly mind.

            As York neared the entrance he noticed what looked like a newly installed gate and lock. The man’s information must have been a bit old but York didn’t fault him for that. He gave a heavy sigh as he approached the lock and looked around to be sure he was alone. His lock picking skills had actually gotten better since Freelancer but he was almost entirely certain that was due to Delta’s skills and not his own. Still, he didn’t have Delta anymore, he was going to have to rely on himself this time. Reluctantly he began working, actually feeling good about his progress for a moment before a loud and obnoxious alarm started to sound.

            York cringed and flinched away from the noise, a faint echo of Delta attacking his mind with warnings and calculations his chance of escape. York held his head as a headache stabbed at his brain. A blaring noise cut through the alarm adding even more noise to disorient him. York tried to place the noise, to remember what it was. It wasn’t until he saw the bright blue and red lights that he realized what it was. _Run._ He heard Delta in his head and before he could truly process what was happening he broke into a sprint, reaching the end of the block before another police car turned that exact corner. York scrambled to change directions, running as fast as he can back the way he came. Something sharp hit his leg but York tried to ignore it, continuing to run until his muscles locked up and he fell to the ground, grunting in pain as electricity pulsed through his body. His panic increased as he tried to move to get up but couldn’t. Before he could regain himself the police were on him, pinning him down as they cuffed him. Dread spread through him as they hauled him up and shoved him into the squad car. This was it then, the end of his freedom, his first step back into the hands of Project Freelancer.

 

            York lay in the holding cell, staring up at the ceiling. A dull buzz of panic was spreading in his chest, causing his heart to beat faster than normal. He felt trapped, like a caged animal. He needed to run, to get away from here. That wasn’t going to happen. Even with his skill in picking locks, the lock to the cell was out of reach from any angle he could get in and he had been cuffed to the bed, and lacked anything long and thin enough to pick the cuffs off of himself.

            The door to the holding cells opened and an officer walked in, carrying York’s bag with him. “I have a few questions about the stuff you’re carrying.” He grunted, pulling up a chair to sit outside of York’s cell.

            York sighed and sat up, the cuff around his wrist jingling as he did. “Questions?”

            “Yes, such as, how much of it was stolen?”

            York shrugged, no use in lying, there was no way his hole could get deeper by this point. “Most of it. The money was all pick-pocketed, but the clothes and food I bought honestly, though with stolen money. The guns and ammo are all stolen too.”

            “And this?” The officer pulled out York’s helmet. “You look a little small to be a Spartan, and you were too easy to arrest. So what are you doing with armor like this?”

            York couldn’t help but smirk slightly. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

            “Try me.”

            “Just curious, have you run my finger prints through the system yet? Found out my identity yet?”

            The officer frowned deeply. “Yes, and it came up with a classified file that no one in the precinct has access to. Which is why I’m eager to figure out why you were breaking into that warehouse.”

            “I was looking for a place to sleep. But, don’t worry, I’ll be out of your hair soon enough. Because any minute now some nasty government agents are going to barge through your front door and claim their stolen property.” York sighed, and he wasn’t looking forward to it.

            “The armor?”

            “Yes. But also me. They weren’t exactly happy when I went AWOL.”

            The officer raised an eyebrow, obviously wondering why York was telling him all of this. York saw no reason not to. It’s not like his situation could get any worse. He had literally hit rock bottom, losing the only thing he had left: his freedom. In fact, it was nice being honest with someone for once.

            “What’s your name?” The officer asked.

            “Don’t have one anymore. My friends call me York, or at least they did when I still had friends.”

            "York huh? That certainly is an odd name.”

            “You should hear some of my friend’s.” York chuckled. “We all had some pretty weird names.”

            The officer seemed to be starting to warm up to York, and York found that he was enjoying his presence. It had been so long since he had a real human to talk to. He had missed this. But before he could get too comfortable the door to the holding cells was swung open. A man in a formal military uniform stood in the entrance.

            “That’s enough.” The man said in a stern voice. “Return to your post officer, I will take care of this from here.”

            The officer seemed uncertain, flashing York a weary look before standing and walking out, brushing shoulders with the soldier as he did. York didn’t recognize him, but there were plenty of soldiers working for Project Freelancer that he didn’t know so it wasn’t surprising. The soldier didn’t say a word as he opened York’s cell and uncuffed him, roughly yanking him to his feet and spinning him around to recuff him. York grunted in discomfort as the soldier cuffed him in a stacked position behind his back. So, much for a comfortable home coming.

            “You’ve caused The Director a lot of trouble Agent York. He’s very anxious to have you back.” The soldier said with a smirk as he yanked York out of the cell.


	3. Chapter 3

            York found himself surprised, though he knew he shouldn’t have been, when he was brought to Freelancer Command. It was a building, not a ship; an actual on the ground building. He knew The Mother of Invention had crashing (considering he was on the ship when it did and quite possibly one of the causes of its crash) but still he hadn’t realized they would move Freelancer Command to a planet. That honestly brought York a sense of relief. If they weren’t in outer space his chances of escaping were a lot better.

            The soldier yanked him forward by his arm when he noticed York lingering to examine the building. The two marched in silence through the overly clean hallways of Freelancer Command. York lost track of how many turns they took before finally stopping in front of a door that read “Medical Examinations: Room A”. York was more than a little confused as he was led in and cuffed to the examining table. At least his hands weren’t stacked behind his back now, he rolled his sore shoulders as the soldier left the room and locked it behind him.

            And then it was a waiting game. York must have waited for hours it seemed, though it was hard to tell given that there was no clock in the examination room. He tried pacing through some of it but being cuffed to the table made that difficult. Finally, boredom won him over and he began to talk with _Delta_ like he had started to do a few days after Delta’s disappearance.

            “What do you think, Delta?” He asked, about his current situation.

            _Simple key code lock on the door. Easy to hack through a control panel. The hand cuffs are more of an issue though. I suggest just waiting._ Came _Delta_ ’s silent answer.

            York sighed. “Helpful as always, D.” He muttered, going to sit on the table as he waited. The silence dragged on and York quickly became agitated, looking to fill it. “Want to tell me where you went yet?” He asked _Delta_.

            There was no answer this time. There never was. York had asked several times and _Delta_ always refused to answer him.

            “Just talk to me Delta!” York groaned, running a hand through his hair that had grown shaggy and ragged during his life on the run. “Tell me why you left! Where did you go!” His voice cracked with desperation. “I need to know…just tell me!” Still there was silence. York was close to giving up. Nothing he did got him any closer to finding Delta, to telling where he went and why. It was driving him nuts. He needed answers.

            The camera in the corner of the room moved.

 

            The Councilor looked on with keen interest, taking great note at York’s outburst. It would seem that his severed connection with Delta had damaged him in some way. The Councilor wanted to study him more but keeping him near the medical wing was too much of a risk. If Agent Washington, who was still recovering from his bullet wound, a gift from Agent South, were to see him things could go poorly. It would be better, The Councilor decided, to move him to a more appropriate wing based on his current state of mind.

            The Councilor pushed a button on the panel on his desk, paging one of the medics. “Have Agent York moved to the psych ward. Be sure to be careful with him, he should be sedated before moving him.” The Councilor gave his directions before leaning back again to watch how Agent York would deal with this.

 

            The door opened, catching York’s attention. He sat up on the examining table, having laid down to rest his back, and looked to see a team of medics coming in. “About time, I’ve been waiting in here for hours- Hey!” He tried to pull away as one of the medics grabbed his arm. His protest brought the other medics to help hold him down as the first one pulled out a syringe. “What are you giving me? Hey stop that! You have to tell me what that is! You can’t just…you can’t…just…” His world started to spin, his vision going blurry and dark around the edges. Something wasn’t right. He couldn’t think straight anymore.

            With a thud York’s head hit the examining table.


	4. Chapter 4

            York woke bleary eyed, his head pounding and his mouth dry. He moved to rub his eyes but found that his hand wouldn’t move. He struggled to move it, his mind come out of its foggy state as he discovered he had been bound to a bed by cloth straps around his wrists and ankles. Panic flooded him as he fought against his bindings, yelling for help. He couldn’t remember how he got there, he was scared, he needed help.

            A door he hadn’t noticed before opened and a medic rushed in, syringe in hand. York started to panic even more at the sight of it. “No! No more! I need to get out of here! Let me out!” He screamed at the medic who ignored him, not even looking at him as she administered the drug. Once again York felt disoriented, his mind failing to fight through the muddled mess that the drug left behind. He tried to keep consciousness to no avail, falling asleep just as quickly as he had the time before.

            The next time York woke he wasn’t bound to the bed. No medic came in. He was left on his own. He groaned, head hurting worse than before as he sat up and swung his legs over the edge of the bed, bare feet touching the soft white floor. He examined the room around him, the pristine white walls, the white sheets, and the lack of anything besides a bed and a toilet with what looked like a water fountain or sink of some sort attached to it. He couldn’t even tell where the door was. Even the clothes they had put him in were pure white and despite the fact that they were actually very comfortable York found himself wanting to tear them off if not only to destroy the clean look of the room.

            York began to feel agitated, jumping up from his seat at the bed in order to pace around the cramped room. He was restless; he needed to get out of there. He ran his hands along the walls, trying to find any indication of a door. His hands brushed against a small draft and he retraced his steps, locating the origin of the soft breeze. It was hard to spot, especially with his failing eyesight but he found it, a small crack in the wall that led all the way to the floor. More exploring found another crack two feet away from it. The best he could assume was that was the door. York sighed in dismay when he found that the cracks were too small to fit even his nail into. There was no hope of opening the door from his side.

            It seemed like hours before anything happened, York’s mind wandering from thought to thought as a result of pure boredom. Then there was a noise, like a latch opening. He looked up and saw a small rectangular hole in the wall that hadn’t been there before, a tray of food balancing on the edge of it. York hadn’t realized how hungry he was until he saw the food. Hesitantly he reached for it. The moment he pulled the tray of food out the hole in the wall closed. York sighed and sat on the bed with the tray in his lap. He kind of had to laugh at the lack of eating utensils. What did they think he was going to do? Try to dig his way out with a spoon?

            Rolling his eyes, he picked the sandwich up and started eating, not really thinking that it could have been spiked with something until he had already finished it completely. He decided to be more careful with the drink, sniffing at it before taking a small sip off the top and swirling it in his mouth for a while. Nothing tasted off about the water, though to be fair York wasn’t even sure what he was tasting for. It tasted kind of funny, like it came from a tap and hadn’t been filtered before given to him but he didn’t think much of it.

            It wasn’t long after he had finished his lunch that the wall, where he had accurately guessed the door was, opened and two men in soldiers’ uniforms came in. Without a word York was yanked to his feet and his hands cuffed behind his back.

            “Where are we going now?” York asked but neither of the soldiers replied as the yanked him forward. The rest of the walk was done in silence as York had no actual want to engage the two in conversation. Instead he kept his eyes busy on taking in his surroundings, the metal hallways and the florescent lights, the yellow line that stretched down the middle of the floor. When they reached an office York stood sandwiched between the two guards, their hands holding a little too tightly onto his arms. Too focused on his own discomfort, York hadn’t noticed the man sitting at the desk until he spoke.

            “Uncuff him and wait outside, gentlemen. We’ll be a while and I don’t want Agent York feeling so uncomfortable that he can’t talk freely.” The Councilor looked up from the file he was reading and gave a rather disarming smile.

            Though their reluctance was clear in their expressions, the soldiers did as they were told and York was freed for the moment. Immediately his thoughts went to escaping. Now that his hands were free he could make a decent run for it. Sure there were guards right outside the door and probably a ton more elsewhere in the building, but he could make it, right?

            _Likelihood of a successful attempt is 10% not counting the variables of being able to successfully disappear again. They have most likely put a tracker underneath your skin somewhere._ His ghost _Delta_ interrupted his thoughts.

            “Agent York,” The Councilor started in his usual unthreatening tone. “Please, take a seat. We have a lot to discuss.” He gestured to a rather uncomfortable looking chair which York reluctantly took a seat in as he took in his surroundings. The room was sparse, not even a lot on the desk in front of him making York believe this was only a temporary office for the Councilor.  “I’m sure you have a lot of questions, and I’ll be happy to-“

            “Not really.” York interrupted.

            “Excuse me?”

            “I don’t have a lot of questions. I’m a rogue agent who is being held and treated like a criminal. It only makes sense. The only thing I can’t figure out is why the white room? I can understand isolation but it seems a little too clean to be used for typical prisoner isolation.” York explained in an even tone. He wasn’t going to allow the Councilor any of his diplomatic bullshit. Honestly, he would prefer to be talking with the Director himself, he always had a way with bluntness and that was what York needed at the moment.

            “You’re being held as a psych ward patient, until I can be sure your severed connection with Delta hasn’t damaged your mind in anyway.” The Councilor explained.

            York’s jaw clenched. _Oh. That would explain it then._ He thought as his mind turned back to his outburst in the examination room. “There’s nothing I can do to convince you I’m sane, is there?” He asked through clenched teeth.

            The Councilor gave a rather chilling smile, as though he was talking with a small child, as he turned his computer screen so York could see the video of himself in the examination room. York didn’t have to watch it to know what he had acted like. He hung his head in his hands as he tried to think of a way out of this mess.

            The Councilor turned his computer screen back and paused the video. “As you can see we cannot trust you to act in a sane manner at the moment. But that is not why I had the soldiers bring you in here.” He took out his tablet and made a note on it, the sounds of the holographic keys filling the room. “Let’s start with you telling me how you’re feeling.”

            “How I’m feeling? What are you a therapist?” York scowled, looking up.

            “Just answer the question, Agent York.”

            York sighed, sitting back up so he could glare at the Councilor properly. “I feel like shit. Like I’ve been trapped and there’s no escape.”

            “And why would you say you feel that way?” The Councilor asked as he continued to type.

            “Because I am trapped!” York snapped. “I’ve been on the run for years, ever since Sidewinder, and now I’ve been caught and there’s very little chance of me escaping.”

            “And about Sidewinder, would you say you have overwhelming feelings of anger and grief over what happened to Agent Carolina?”

            The question took York by surprise; he took longer to think of an answer. “Not anger.” He told the Councilor. “Grief is a given but not anger.” He shook his head, surprised at how sincere he was being. He supposed there was no point in lying. They already thought he was a fucking nut job after all. “Guilt, maybe, and then sometimes I don’t feel anything, it’s just sort of all numb.”

            “Guilt?” The Councilor raised an eyebrow.

            “The crash was my fault, because of my distraction for Tex. If I hadn’t crashed the ship, Carolina may have survived Maine’s attack.”

            “And what about Delta? Have you noticed anything wrong since you’ve lost him?”

            York nodded. “I hear him sometimes. He’s faint and he only talks when I’m trying to make a decision but he’s still there…” York groaned, shaking his head, realizing just how crazy he sounded.

            The Councilor set down his tablet down. “Well, that’s all I need to hear for now.” He explained as he opened a drawer to his desk and pulled out a white plastic bottle that had been stripped of it label. “I’m going to prescribe you some pills. They should help with the voice you’ve been hearing.” He opened the bottle and tipped two of the pills into the lid before handing the lid to York. “You’ll receive them with your breakfast every day. And before you consider not taking them, remember, we can physically force you to.”

            York stared white and teal capsules in his hand as the Councilor handed him a glass of water to wash them down with. Just looking at them gave him a queasy feeling in his stomach. Something didn’t seem right. How did the Councilor already have these ready for him? “What are they?” York asked, his mouth suddenly dry with anxiety.

            “It’s a drug to treat hallucinations, also sometimes used to treat depression, anxiety and sleeping disorders.”

            “Hallucinations?” York wanted to drop the pills right there. “I’m not crazy! I don’t need pills!”

            “It’s for the best, Agent York, it will quiet Delta’s voice so you can start to recover.” The Councilor explained.

            York eyed him suspiciously. “Why don’t I trust you?” The Councilor didn’t answer, leaving York no option but to swallow the pills.

            “Well done, Agent York.” The Councilor took back the glass of water and paged the guards back in. “Take him back to his room.” He instructed them as York was impolitely yanked from his chair and cuffed again.

            As he was dragged back through the cold metal hallways York couldn’t help but feel that The Councilor had gotten exactly what he wanted.


	5. Chapter 5

            York’s days fell into routine. He would wake up and his breakfast would be waiting for him in the slot along with his daily dose of whatever it was the Councilor was making him take. He took it, playing obedient for now. After he ate guards would come take him for a shower, cuffing him to a railing in the shower and standing in view as he washed himself. After his shower he was led back to his room and locked in. He would be left for hours with nothing to do but stare at the ceiling.

            Delta’s voice only got louder during these times alone. He kept trying to suppress him, ignore Delta completely as he ran probabilities and possible options for York’s escape. All his options led to either failure or death so York didn’t give them much thought past what Delta’s voice made him do. He would lay there for hours, sometimes getting up to pace around the room but most of the time he found that he was too tired to do that. By the time his lunch showed up he found that he was almost too tired to get up to get it. He managed though about when his stomach started to growl.

            After he ate he’d put the tray back in its slot and someone who never spoke to him would come by to grab it and he’d be on his own again until his dinner showed up. After he ate his dinner the lights in his cell would go off and he’d be left in the pitch black darkness and have nothing better to do than go to sleep.

            It went on like that for God only knew how long. York feeling worse and worse as the days dragged on. The medication wasn’t working, at least not the way York had expected it to but every time he tried to tell the guards they ignored him. He quickly realized they had probably been ordered not to talk to him. Finally one day, sick of feeling like he had lost all control, York refused to take the medication, instead electing to flush it down the toilet. For a while York felt like he had won and then the door to his room opened and he was rushed by two guards who promptly and easily pinned him to the ground. York struggled to free himself, even managing to bite one of the guards but only received a back hand to the cheek for his effort. As he struggled one of the guards managed to close a hand over his nose as the other forced his mouth open. Before York knew it his mouth was filled with water and the pill was dropped in before his mouth was forced shut. Desperate for air and knowing it was his only way of getting it, York swallowed and just like that the guards released their hold on him and left him curled up on the floor, nursing his bruised cheek.

            That night York dreamed of a sunny park, like the ones back home. There were winding trails and a creek bed hidden in the forest and a hill that looked out over a playground where children played. She was there, her red hair let loose from its tight ponytail and fell to her shoulders which were left bare by the white tank top they clung to her fit body. York reached out to her, wanting to feel her skin on his finger tips once more, to hear her voice, to tell her he loved her still. As he reached, hand caressing the back of her neck to pull her into a gentle kiss, his hand touched something wet and warm. He drew back, fingers coming away sticky and red with blood.

            “Carolina?” He looked at her with fear and concern but she wasn’t there anymore and neither was the park. He was on the cliff, blanketed in white snow. “Carolina!” He called out, voice betraying his panic.

            York woke with a start, sitting straight up in bed. For a long while he didn’t recognize where he was and panic over took him as he looked around the room for any sign of familiarity. Reality crashed into him like a train as he remembered his situation. He curled in on himself as he tried to regain what he had left of his senses, bringing his knees up to his chin. He was shaking he realized, shaking and longing for a blanket to pull over himself though he knew his shakes weren’t from the temperature. He wanted to hide, to imagine just for a moment that he was free again and away from this white room that acted as his prison.

            York will never be proud to admit he cried that night.


	6. HIATUS

In lieu of recent events I am going to put this fanfiction on hiatus until I can finish my own original work.  
I am not sure how many of my readers have heard about the news of Monty Oum's passing but the man was a large inspiration in all my work, original and fan. Once I do finish my original story and publish it I will be dedicating it to Monty and the amazing work he did in Roosterteeth and how much he inspired me.  
If you're taking the news as hard as I am I suggest you take a break, do some self care, and take comfort in knowing that you're not alone and that the entire community is mourning this terrible loss with you.


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